Umbrella
by West of California
Summary: Izaya's caught in the rain, and he's rather displeased about it, too.  When Shizuo happens across the unhappy brunette, he finds it pretty hilarious.  However, Izaya doesn't seem quite so entertained... Oneshot.  Shizaya-ish. T for language.


**A/N: Yeah... I have no explanation ;) a bit of mindlessness for my fellow Shizaya fans. A random thought that's been drifting in and out of my mind for days has, once again, been turned into a fic... oh, well. Hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Yes, I own Durarara! How did you know?**

...

** /sarcasm**

* * *

Izaya pouted. He totally didn't deserve this.

The rain was coming down in sheets, limiting his visibility so that the more distant areas of the city were little more than a blur. He absentmindedly licked a raindrop off his lip as he pulled his soaked jacket tighter around himself, his arms crossed as he clutched the thing to his shoulders. A toss of his head sent a dripping lock of hair careening away only to be thrown right back in his eye once again by its own sodden weight. His scowl deepened as a shudder wracked his body; he never had liked rain. The sound of rain, yes, but being _in_ the rain? Not as pleasant.

How had it started so quickly, he wanted to know. The informant had waltzed cockily into a clothing store in northern Ikebukuro not an hour ago to take part in one of his favorite activities; antagonizing the cashiers. The women at each of the two registers were now either sufficiently exasperated with or terrified of him, and his day, in all, had been relatively entertaining; that is, until he'd stepped outside only to be greeted by the not-so-entertaining sight of falling rain. And, naturally, he didn't have any cash on him, so taking a cab wasn't an option. He'd dawdled under the awning for ten minutes or so, hoping for it to let up, before he'd concluded that he might die of boredom if he stood there any longer and had taken a quick step out, then another, keeping a brisk pace while assuring himself that it couldn't be _that_ far to his apartment.

Slowly, though, and without his notice, the water working its way into the tightly-woven threads of his clothes had left his attire a good bit heavier than it had been before, and he'd reduced his pace to match. Now he was splashing along, his shoes squelching against the puddle-ridden sidewalk, at practically a crawl, miserable, his eyes downcast. To be reduced to this... ridiculous. Imagine, someone he knew seeing him like this – a humiliating thought, to say the least. He was Orihara Izaya, the most infamous, arrogant, and respected (or feared) information broker in the Tokyo area! Now he was reduced to sloshing through the rain like any common pedestrian. He was someone who should be recognized on the streets as a powerful – and, perhaps, slightly unhinged – figure, not some lowlife with no money for a taxi.

Again, he totally didn't deserve this.

Heiwajima Shizuo was, on the other hand, surprisingly happy, a tiny smirk on his lips as he strolled along under his black umbrella. The rain pattering around him was calming, cleared his mind, siphoned the excess anger from his body. The blonde was having a pretty good day, as days went. Tom had given him the rest of the day off, saying that it wasn't fair to make Shizuo escort him all over creation in such a downpour, and the man's bodyguard had gladly accepted the downtime. Now, he was having a relaxed on-and-off text conversation with Shinra and feeling generally good.

And, suddenly, his day got a whole lot better.

He didn't know what he found more hilarious; the fact that some poor sap was caught in this rain unprotected, or the fact that said 'poor sap' was the _flea._ He could barely contain a laugh as he drew closer to the man, who had continued walking solemnly with his head down and had not noticed him yet. Shizuo registered in the back of his mind that it was somewhat odd that he didn't feel the need to search for a vending machine nearby to hurl at the informer, but he chalked it up to the fact that he was having a good day and thought little of it, gripping his umbrella tighter while reveling in his moment of triumph.

"_Izaaayaaa-kuuun," _he drawled, a malicious edge to his voice. Izaya started and looked up, his eyebrows raised in surprise. His expression, however, soon dropped to one of distaste.

"Ah, Shizu-chan. As you can see, this isn't the best time; can we put this little clash off until another day?" The brunette was obviously trying to stay condescending, though the difficulty was clear to Shizuo; it came across as more of an irritated command. The blonde couldn't hold back a chuckle.

"Of course not, flea," he replied, diving right in to their customary banter. "I'm just planning to enjoy a quick moment of watching you stand, completely soaked, in the pouring rain. Then, naturally, I'm going to kick the shit out of you." A satisfied smile took his lips, and the gleam in his eyes was clear behind his blue glasses.

"Classy, Shizu-chan," Izaya deadpanned, now blatantly aggravated. "Kicking someone while they're down. How nice of you." An eye-roll was added to the end of Izaya's complaint, further entertaining the blonde. This really irked the informant, didn't it? Hah.

Izaya sniffed, wrapping the coat tighter around him. Seriously? Did the universe just have something against him? Shizuo was the last person he wanted to see at the moment. Damn it. "Though, perhaps it's what I'd do, too. Go ahead, bask in your victory." He ended with a vague gesture of his hand, sneering and not even bothering to hide his annoyed tone. This was all putting him into a very irate mood, and he _just_ wanted to get home and take a warm shower. That's all he wanted. He didn't feel like that was too much to ask, really.

Apparently, though, this just wasn't his day, because it appeared that Shizuo planned to do exactly as he'd suggested, and Izaya felt rather uncomfortable as the chocolate eyes followed the rivulets of water trickling down his face, dripping from the (probably ruined) fur bordering the ends of his jacket's sleeves, and invading his socks, rather unwelcome. And, as if that weren't enough, Shizuo apparently intended to make it worse.

The blonde doubled over in laughter, pointing like a child as chuckles ran through him, and Izaya stood, again attempting to bring the coat tighter around him, though for what purpose, he didn't know; the article was soaked through with icy rain, it was probably only serving to make him colder. He shivered again, and the involuntary movement caused him to bite his lip, and he was freaking _freezing_, and he just wanted to get home... and something inside him snapped.

"Fuck you, Shizuo!" he shouted, panting angrily as blood from his broken lip mingled with the water. His mouth was contorted into a resentful grimace and his eyes were narrowed in anger. The blonde suddenly stopped laughing, fixing him with a slightly shocked expression. "I know I put you through a lot of shit, but I just fucking want to _go home!_" His shoulders shook, both from cold and anger, and his saturated hair hung over his blood-red irises and clung to his skin. Slowly, he closed his eyes, allowing his expression to relax as he took in a steady breath. "So, if you've had your fun, I think we can put off the beating another day."

Shizuo was stunned, couldn't think. Izaya was... upset? He'd seen a lot of sides of the flea – most of them highly unpleasant – but he'd never once seen Izaya genuinely upset by something. He always seemed to take everything as a big joke, but... the blonde didn't even know. The short brunette stood before him, clutching onto his jacket like a lifeline and trembling slightly, probably for several reasons, and Shizuo couldn't help but feel... wait a minute. Sorry? Did he feel _sorry_ for the flea?

_Shizuo,_ he mentally scolded himself, _this is _Izaya_. A flea. A louse. A parasite. You hate him. The hell are you thinking? He doesn't deserve anyone feeling sorry for him._ And yet... the feeling was still there. And, as if that weren't enough, he suddenly felt compelled to do something that he'd lie awake thinking about many nights after, pondering what, exactly, had possessed him to make such an offering.

"Take it," he said bluntly, holding the black umbrella out to the informer and wincing as the rain ran icily down the back of his neck and struck his face, blinking as the occasional drop made its way behind his blue glasses and landed against his eyelids.

Izaya stared blankly for a moment. "...What?"

"Just _take the umbrella_," he repeating, shaking the object slightly as he further extended his arm.

The brunette blinked in surprise. Wha... Shizuo was offering up his umbrella to _him?_ _Him_, the guy who regularly caused him dangerous levels of stress, who irritated him, just for the fun of it, daily? He was giving the umbrella to _Izaya?_ His eyes widened, exposing his red irises completely. He couldn't get his arm to move and take the object; he was frozen.

"Well?" Shizuo asked, snapping him abruptly out of his semi-daze. "I thought you 'just wanted to go home.' The longer you stand there staring like an idiot, the longer we're both stuck in the rain. Take it already." Slowly, mechanically, Izaya obeyed, his fingers curling awkwardly around the grip of the umbrella and pulling it toward him. As the ceaseless downpour was suddenly stopped by the black canopy, he felt like he could no longer stare at the ex-bartender, and instead dropped his gaze to the sidewalk, which was colored a damp shade darker than usual by the rain.

"Uh... thanks," he mumbled, the anger having been startled right out of him. He didn't know what else to say.

"Uh-huh," Shizuo replied in his deep monotone. Izaya studied a crack running through the concrete. Funny how the green blades of grass poking up from the crevice seemed so out-of-place in the city setting.

The shuffling of feat alerted him to Shizuo's movement. He, in turn, cleared his throat. "Guess I'll go then. Seeya, Shizu-chan."

"Yeah... uh, sure," Shizuo replied awkwardly, and Izaya began to walk away slowly without giving him a parting glance.

A mild feeling of contentment settled over him as he meandered home. He was thankful for the umbrella, really. He pulled his jacket tighter around him, this time trying to keep all the confusion over this bizarre occurrence, all his jumbled-up thoughts and feelings, from spilling out. He fingered the grip of the object, and an odd sort of expression appeared on his face, his eyebrows knitted together while his lips turned up just the tiniest fraction in one corner, as he thought more about it.

Shizuo was a nice guy. He totally didn't deserve this.

* * *

**A/N: Aww, and would you look at that. The ending ties in and everything! *pats self on back* yeah I was kinda proud of that considering I was totally making up the plot as I went along XD**

**I like reviews. I do. I promise. :D**

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
